


Lucid Moments

by saucerfulofsins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Yes you read that right!), Alcohol, Closeted Character, Dry Humping, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut, Weed, coachella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucerfulofsins/pseuds/saucerfulofsins
Summary: Keith met Shiro four days ago, but it feels like a lifetime. And maybe he should be more scared, maybe he should be more hesitant—but Lance bought him a ticket to Coachella, life is short, and Shiro is very lovely indeed.





	Lucid Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sepiacigarettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiacigarettes/gifts).



Keith wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Allura or Lance, and he’s not happy about it.

Coachella isn’t his scene. He hates the people, isn’t into most of the bands playing, and camping—is probably the least horrible aspect of the experience. So of course he ends up stoned, ends up drunk, ends up talking to all kinds of people.

The surprise is that he doesn’t feel exhausted afterwards.

Their spot on the camping is nice—there’s a small group of people nearby they start hanging out with because Lance knows two of them, Hunk and Pidge, and they’re nice enough that he doesn’t feel utterly exhausted at the end of the day; at least not from _people_.

The second to last day, they’re hanging out together at the campsite, drinking wine and hotboxing pot in his tent. His feet hurt but he knows there’ll be a party at the festival terrain later—but he’s comfortable in the pile he fell into with Lance and Shiro after one of the big afternoon performances.

Hunk and Matt leave first, talking about finding some food. Allura weaves in and out of the camp for a while until she leaves with Romelle and Pidge. They stay piled up, Lance to his right, his laughter jolting Keith’s body and, with that, Shiro’s.

He feels a little too hot, a little too sweaty, but he's comfortable and doesn't want them to move away from him yet. There’s a quiet companionship in this contact, something he’s not usually comfortable with—but somehow, he more than is in this setting.

They're languidly talking about anything and everything, bands and the sunset and the stale taste of wine.

“Pass me the wine?” Lance laughs and Shiro’s left hand reaches over Keith. Keith feels Shiro pressed up against him; Shiro linked their fingers together probably about an hour ago and he hasn’t let go since.

“It’s pretty bad, still,” Shiro giggles back, jostling Keith’s body. His heartbeat spikes when he thinks about leaving two days from now, sadness and fear along with the exhilaration of getting to know Shiro—because he's known this part to himself existed, but it’s never felt like _this_.

“You’re pussies,” Keith mutters, grabbing the wine from Lance and making sure he doesn’t spill any on his sleeping bag. The air mattress jiggles under him again, and Lance sticks out his tongue as Keith takes a couple of pulls from the bottle.

“We’re—no! The only pussies here are the hot girls.” Keith can hear the smirk on Lance’s voice and rolls his eyes. He’s not necessarily wrong, in the sense that there are plenty of pretty girls, but Keith wouldn’t reduce them to their genitals even if he did have eyes for them.

“I don’t care too much for girls,” Shiro mutters. “I mean, I’m gay.” His breath ghosts over Keith’s skin as he leans into him a little more, and for a second he thinks Shiro might kiss him.

He doesn’t—disappointment mixes with relief as Lance stares at Shiro.

“No way, dude!” he exclaims. “That means Keith is the minority for once! Keith—oh my god, your straight ass is the _minority_ , wow!”

“Is minority a new word you learnt this morning?” Keith deadpans, eager to reroute the conversation.

He’s not straight either, but Lance doesn’t know. They haven’t known each other for that long, and while Lance will tell any stranger about his bisexuality, it isn’t something Keith wants to broadcast to the world.

And maybe he’s scared. Because he’s never been with a boy before or been looked at the way Shiro is currently looking at him. Never with this sense of inevitably, this breath-taking exhilaration, because he can tell Shiro is into him. Shiro’s raised his eyebrows in question and, hidden between their bodies, Keith squeezes Shiro’s hand.

Lance is still prattling on when Pidge drops by the tent to tell them they're going to head to an impromptu jam session elsewhere on the tent camping, and whether they want to join.

He waits for Shiro to get up, to see him laugh with other people at the jam session and then lose sight of him forever without anything happening—moving on with his life.

But Shiro doesn't get up, doesn't leave his left side cold the way Lance had left his right side—says, “I don't feel much like partying right now, if you guys are gonna head there, I’d rather go to bed.”

His eyes are boring into Keith's as he speaks, stealing his breath again, rubbing his thumb over the back of Keith's hand—and Keith hears himself say, “I think I'm going to stay back too, but thanks for the invite.”

Pidge is already out of sight and Lance flips them off as he stumbles out of the tent, telling them, "See ya later, losers," completely oblivious to the change in atmosphere—or maybe, maybe he noticed and deliberately leaves them to it. He does manage to zip the entrance mostly shut, shielding Keith and Shiro from the world. Lance is a conundrum that Keith can’t figure out.

“I guess I'll keep your company for a little longer, then. If you want me to.” Shiro whispers even if there’s no real need to, this close to Keith. They don't move, even now Lance has left them with plenty of space in the tent to lay farther apart. “Y'know... Just didn't feel like being around all those people.”

Keith nods. “Yeah,” he mutters. “I get that.”

He can't look away from Shiro's grey-brown eyes, glittering in the dim light of the little led light Lance tied to the tent’s ceiling, covered by red paper to make things seem a bit cosier

He can't pull his hand away from Shiro's, even if he knows Shiro can feel how clammy his palm is.

Even if he knows that holding hands is going to lead to only one conclusion, and it's terrifying and new but Keith is sick and tired of running away from it.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, low and gentle, shifting a little—he’s moving closer, not further away, his breath ghosting over Keith's skin

“Yeah?” he whispers back.

“Straight, hm?” His smile is gentle, knowing, and Keith melts into it.

And then Shiro is pushing himself up on his metal arm, takes the time hovering over Keith—their fingers still entwined, still comforting—lets their noses bump together deliberately until Keith huffs out a laugh.

Until Keith tilts his face up a little, lets Shiro slot into place, their mouths fitting together easily, naturally. Shiro doesn’t kiss him desperately, not like he's looking for more—he kisses Keith like he's done it a million times before and wants to do it a million times more.

Keith kisses back, finds the stubble on Shiro’s chin rubbing against his own different from what he’s used to but undeniably nice, finds that Shiro tastes like the too-sweet wine they were drinking, finds that he wants to keep Shiro close, pulling him back down for more.

Shiro lets go of his hand and moves to hold Keith's hip instead, and when Shiro starts to be uncomfortable, keeping himself up like this, Keith follows Shiro as he moves to his back—until he’s lying on top of Shiro, blushing and unable to stop grinning as he kisses Shiro again, again, again.

Shiro is aware, of course, of the fact that Keith's only been with girls. Still, he knows too that Keith can't keep his eyes off Shiro, that he hasn't turned down any of the advances Shiro’s made towards him over the past few days—sitting closer, offering him drinks or shotgunning a joint, dancing together during a performance; the hand-holding started tonight but before that Shiro was resting his hand on Keith's lower back, lingering for minutes, and Shiro's arm slung around Keith's shoulders at the campfire the first night they met

Shiro has been surrounding him, encompasses him, and Keith can't get enough of it.

Shiro is good at this, and Keith feels not awkward at all, not even like he needs to pretend to be loud, into it more than he is, eager to get under Shiro's skirt—of course, Shiro isn't wearing a skirt, but there's not that haste to move on. Nevertheless, he feels a hot jolt in his belly when he shifts and feels something shift against his thigh, realises that Shiro is hard and exhales sharply. Shiro must realise what's happening, smiling into the kiss and sliding his hand further down Keith's back, fingers brushing the belt of his jeans.

Shiro's hand lingers and Keith wants to tell him to move lower, but he doesn't want to compromise on their comfort. Still, he's rapidly realising how nice it is to feel how responsive Shiro is to him, quiet gasps and groans as he pushes his hips up like he's helpless, kissing Keith like he needs it more than breathing.

He strokes Keith's hair from his face and Keith realises only now how much of a mess he is, sweaty with strands sticking to his face, with his lips swollen from kissing Shiro—but he can see Shiro's equally dishevelled, can see Shiro is looking at Keith like he doesn't want this moment to ever end either.

And when Keith whispers, “Shiro” again, because there's nothing else he can say—because it's too late for an ‘I really like you’ but still too early for an ‘I love you’—Shiro's hand slips lower and Keith feels the gasp pushed from his lungs, buries his face in Shiro's neck as they both laugh and Shiro whispers, “You like this, don't you?” hot against his ear.

Keith nods and Shiro repeats the squeeze—it's not rough, but his hand covers Keith's ass and he can't help but grind down against Shiro with a quiet groan.

"You feel so good," Shiro mutters against the side of Keith's head, rubbing his jaw against the side of Keith's face until he looks up again—and then Shiro chases him with his mouth until he catches Keith in a chaste kiss again. Keith lets himself be guided back into it, light-headed as Shiro pushes at his hip a little, nudges Keith into shifting until Shiro's thigh presses between his legs.

"Fuck," Keith whimpers as he grinds down. He can feel the heat of Shiro's cock radiate outward to his own leg and kisses Shiro more desperately this time, gasping into it as Shiro lets him grind down, helps him move.

He wants this to last, he thinks, but while he'll see Shiro again tomorrow, he's not sure they'll stay in touch after. For now, though, they're in the desert, and they've shed themselves of their inhibitions, and Keith isn't usually as forward with people—but with Shiro, it feels like he can.

So, he reaches down, tilts his hips so he has enough space to trail his fingers over the hard ridge of Shiro's cock in his jeans; watches Shiro's face for his responses. He's smiling gently, his eyes fluttering shut whenever Keith rubs his fingers over the swollen head of Shiro's dick, quiet little gasps as he tries to buck up—which is harder now Keith is throwing him off balance, not helping him with a rhythm.

"Shiro," he whispers, pressing kisses to Shiro's cheek, tasting the stubble on his jaw, following the cut of bone to the soft skin below his ear. "Can I?"

"You wanna see me, babe?" Shiro murmurs back, low and quiet and his voice rougher than before. Keith isn't sure why Shiro talking like this makes him blush, but it does, even as he nods.

Shiro helps him unbuckle his belt, pops the buttons on his jeans one-handedly and then lies back. He allows Keith to explore, to touch the tight black boxer-briefs he's wearing under the jeans and feel the heat and dampness of his cock as he pulls open the fly a little further, teasing his fingers over it as he gets used to the feel of another man's dick in his hand.

He can tell Shiro's breathing goes uneven sometimes, and when he reaches his hand in further to cup Shiro's balls through his underwear, Shiro moans quietly.

That's all the encouragement Keith needs. Carefully he reaches into Shiro's underwear and pulls up his dick, feels the velvet-smooth skin and hard core underneath, is aware that when he carefully slides down the foreskin it must feel good because he _knows_ it does, viscerally, and because Shiro moans again, spreading his legs a little wider.

He starts to slowly jerk off Shiro, keeping a light grip until he remembers what he himself likes, remembers that nothing bad is going to happen if he squeezes—and that earns him another cut-off groan from Shiro.

Shiro, whose eyes have gone half-lidded as he stares at Keith, letting him do what he wants for a couple of minutes, at which point he quietly asks, "Aren't you hard, too?"

When Keith nods, he finds himself biting down on his lower lip like he's some kind of porn star—feels the sting of it travel right down to his dick like everything is wired to sexual pleasure right now.

"I can take care of you," Shiro continues in his low rumble, looking like he'd love to, and another shiver runs down Keith's spine.

"God," Keith exhales, feeling Shiro's thumb run over his aching dick. The touch brings brief relief before he's left hotter than before, keener, wanton almost.

"Yeah?" Shiro asks again, and Keith nods.

"Yeah," he says, breathless, watching as Shiro makes quick work of his jeans, shoving them down. There's a dark, wet spot at the tip of his dick that Shiro rubs his thumb over, before bringing the digit to his mouth and sucking on it.

Keith almost blows his load right then and there.

It's a damn good thing Shiro isn't touching him because then he certainly would have. Instead, Shiro takes Keith's hips in his hands and positions him until he's got both his legs between Shiro's thighs—and Keith catches on, whimpering helplessly as Shiro pulls down his underwear before guiding their groins together.

" _Oh_."

The sound is punched from Keith's lips once their dicks slide together. There's an unfamiliarity to it, but the wetness at the tip of Shiro's cock slicks the way a little and even the dry friction and feeling Shiro's obvious arousal, drives him out of his mind.

"Are you close?" Shiro asks with a rough voice, and Keith is—he can already feel the grand swell of pleasure in his stomach, no matter how desperately he tries to stave it off.

"Yeah," he manages to whimper, to whine because he doesn't want to yet.

Maybe Shiro can tell, but regardless he whispers, "Me too, that's good, me too—just, let me see you come, Keith, show me, show me what you look like—shit."

And Keith topples over the edge, with Shiro's thumb stroking his cheek and then pulling him into another kiss as he spills between their bellies, as he feels Shiro's dick twitch hard against his own and the spread of more hot wet heat as Shiro moans into the kiss like he can't himself, helpless to stop the noise.

He doesn't realise he's breathless until he's coming down from his orgasm, feeling Shiro's hand snuck up under his shirt and stroking his back.

"Wow," he mutters, shifting and grimacing at the feeling of the mess slide between them.

Shiro hums, looking up at Keith. His eyes are bright and sharp as he laughs at Keith's expression.

Keith rolls his eyes and Shiro pouts back at him, and when Keith rolls off Shiro they laugh at the come on their bellies. Without speaking, Keith feels around for a dirty shirt that he uses to clean his own stomach before rubbing it over Shiro's abs. Some of it has caught on their shirts and he can see a wet spot on the waist of Shiro's jeans, but it hardly seems to matter right now.

Instead, he tucks his softening dick back into his underwear while Shiro does the same.

There's a moment's hesitation because Keith doesn't know what to do next—the realisation of what he's done is starting to sink in, and after his past experiences his bedpartners left soon after.

Shiro isn't moving.

Keith expected a gay panic to happen at some point, but it's not coming.

He lies back down beside Shiro, who rolls over to face him, to smile and press another kiss to Keith's lips. With that, the awkwardness is gone—because it means Shiro won't leave yet, because there's more to this for Shiro too, at least for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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